


just a man.

by cloudburst



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, maccready has a nightmare, that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: He dreams of a death, not his own.





	just a man.

**Author's Note:**

> didn’t want my first fallout work to be a drabble written at 3 in the morning, but hey, what are ya gonna do
> 
> this is super not canon and i kind of hate how meta

He supposes that he really should have seen it coming—what with the creaking floorboards, perpetual wind, and unrepairable radiation damage carried out by the volatile rain. He should have realized that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the best idea to let Daniel scout ahead of him so far without any idea of a layout, carrying nothing but an old combat knife and a compensated, modified pipe pistol—only the eerie green light of his Pip Boy and the glow sighted scope to guide him through—

Where were they again?

MacCready supposes it doesn’t matter. The floorboard creaks. And then perhaps it does, as he hears the high pitched growl that can only be associated with ferals. But it’s so far away, too far it seems—his feet staying in place, even as he throws caution to the wind and tries to move forward, with all his might and speed. Nothing works, for it’s impossible, even as he hears Daniel shout. 

That’s not like him. 

MacCready soon understands, and it all becomes clear—an image he will never be able to sear from his mind: Daniel stumbling through the doorway, a limp in his step, bleeding heavily from some unknown source upon his torso; his tan skin is tinted red, dark eyes shot and rimmed—warm brown hair matted with the deepest red of blood. It’s enough to make MacCready gag, even as he tells himself that head wounds always look nastier than they are. It’s enough to make him curse, even as he tells himself that he’ll make it to Daniel, no matter what this imaginary force holding him in place believes. It’s enough to make him scream, though, when he calls Daniel’s name. He doesn’t receive a response, as Daniel turns to him; it appears that he looks through MacCready, takes a step forward, and stumbles. 

Daniel hits the ground with a dull thud and it is all MacCready can do not to choke on his breath. He can’t let Daniel die. Daniel _can’t_ die. Not without—

Not without what? MacCready is not sure himself, yet he knows that he prefers Daniel in his alive, upright condition. He likes having Daniel in his corner, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. He is so terrified—Daniel unmoving, the rotted building shifting around him like an omen, whispering: _you will die here, too._

MacCready still can’t move—feeling despair set in, trying to crawl forward to Daniel. He needs—

He needs to save him. Eventually, he makes it to Daniel’s body. No, he makes it to Daniel, he insists. Turning him over, placing Daniel’s head in his lap—MacCready assesses the damage. Head wounds are typically worse than they look, but he supposes this one must be a truth teller. He feels for a Stimpak, checking his own supplies, checking Daniel’s supplies. There are no Stimpaks to be found. He feels for a pulse, checking Daniel’s wrist, checking his chest. There is no pulse to be found. 

He knows he’s dead—

—cradles Daniel’s head in his lap, rocking back and forth as silent tears threaten to fall across the man. Ferals have taken too much from him. 

The woman he— 

The man he could have—

It is too late for that now. 

He presses his lips to Daniel’s forehead, and mutters, something he can’t quite remember—yet, it’s something he’s sure isn’t sufficient. 

To make up for it, he whispers to the creaking floorboards, with the glowing sea’s radiation breeze as his witness. “I love you.”

* * *

When MacCready awakens, in Sanctuary Hills, he finds himself mentally scrambling. Eyes opened, he looks to the bed across the room of the wooden shack, the one he recognizes as Daniel’s: where the man now rests, chest rising and falling with his breath. 

He sighs upon the realization that it was just a dream; Daniel is far too invincible to embrace death. And he’s far too stubborn to die without MacCready.

So for another day, MacCready will push off his dream—push off the bad feeling in his gut that tells him of the awful things Daniel will fall victim to.

For Daniel is a relic, an amazing person: a man out of time. And MacCready, well, he’s just a man.


End file.
